A Promise
by corruptedchild
Summary: After many years of searching for the answers, Alphonse distances himself from Edward. And all that is left for Edward is Guilt. Mid Series. Psycho-angst-Edward. Pairings are up for self-interpretation.


Edward was making an attempt at releasing his frustrations. He was finding it rather difficult to breathe in this room. Suffocating under heavy anxiety, his breath was cut short. The weight of his guilt was crushing down on him, with the urgency to feel some form of release.

He sat alone in this cheap motel room. Away from Al. Away from central. Away from Roy. Away from it all. The outside world was nothing short of a hindrance in this small, cheap, cluttered room.

He lay on the stained carpet, only in his trousers. The nighttime rain was pounding on the single window. He lay curled up and shaking.

"Al." He whispered to himself. "Alphonse."

He let the tears slip past after he convinced himself that is was okay. He was alone. He could cry if he wanted. So he did.

"Nothing can be gained without giving something in return. This is the law of… equivalent exchange." He repeated his first and most important law in his life.

"Nothing can be gained," He closed his eyes a more tears slid past his face and into his tangled blond hair. "…without giving something in return." It was his truth, his one and only truth. This truth is what he had based his life on. What he _built_ his life on. Yet this vague and simple foundation of his was slowly driving him mad.

He reached for a piece of gray glass across the floor, from a vase that he had earlier smashed.

He let it gleam in his hand for a moment. "Alphonse. I'll bring you back. I'll get you back, I promise."

He gripped the hard in his hand so tight that he hadn't noticed the severe gape it made in his hand. He watched calmly as the blood glided down his palm, and cascaded down his arm. Carelessly letting it drip to the already destroyed carpet.

Still he gripped it tightly in his hand, letting the pain ring through and through. "I promise."

He choked out the last bit of all the tears he had left. He dropped the shard, and quickly lost consciousness. He was emotionally spent. He had passed out.

Upon waking, he felt stiff and broken. Moving was too difficult, and his limbs felt like stone. His lips were cracked and dry as he pulled them apart. There was a lingering taste of salt in his mouth and his cheeks felt rubbery from his tears. Eyes stinging. An open wound on his right palm.

He lifted himself from the floor, looking for the sunlight that was supposed to be streaming through the window. He opened the curtains, ready to squint at the light.

But nothing. The sky was cloudy. He realized it was early when he looked the clock on the wall. Seven in the morning. He had time now. Time to make it back to Alphonse in the dorms.

He showered and dressed himself, avoiding his right hand being brushed by anything.

He wrapped a beige bandage around it that he found in the cupboard under the bathroom sink.

"Alphonse." He whispered into his damaged hand.

He thought maybe the more he said it, the less he would think about him. But how very wrong he was.

Because it did just the opposite.

* * *

"Alphonse?" His name again.

"Al?"

"I'm in here."

Edward followed the sound of his voice into the small study room, to find him sitting at the desk.

"I didn't expect you to be up."

"I'm always up." Edward can never get used to the fact that Al doesn't sleep. He doesn't get to experience that anymore. Never get tired. Never rest. Never get to close your eyes. Forever trapped in the cycle of days that begins to blend together.

"Sorry." He whispered. He meant it.

"Hn." The short response panged Edwards heart.

He was desperate to get the slightest bit of communication with his brother. Communication that didn't consist of three word answers from Alphonse.

He would push until he got what he wanted. He would keep trying. He would never quit. For Al.

"What are you doing there?" Edward asked with a genuine interest in his tone.

"Just studying." He replied flatly.

"Oh yeah?"

"Research, Ed." Ed was sort of… kind of… maybe getting somewhere.

"On what?" Ed Hovered over Al's Cold metal shoulder and looked onto the desk.

But all of the paper was soon franticly covered up by Al's huge steel arms. "Nothing! Let me finish."

"Al I just wanna see-" Ed reached forward.

"Go away!" Al shouted.

Edward drew back in surprise. Saddened, and rejected once again. The pain could only worsen from here. Edward opened his mouth to speak but no sound came out.

"Al." A hopeful voice.

"Go."

Cold. Detached.

A knock at the door broke the awkward and uncomfortable silence in the room. Ed hurried to answer it.

Lieutenant Hawkeye.

"Fullmetal, sir." She saluted. "The colonel requests your presence in his office."

"Tell him I'm busy." He turned to shut the door just before she placed her boot in the way.

She glared down at his blank eyes. "It's urgent. He instructed me to disallow you to refuse."

He sighed heavily. "Alright then." He was going to slam the door behind him, but he didn't. Slamming doors was a sign of anger. He wasn't angry at Alphonse. He could never be. Al didn't deserve such a thing. He hadn't done anything wrong. It was all Edward. Edward had done this to him.

Edward became very aware of how loud Hawkeyes boots were as they evenly clunked down the halls. He followed her silently, his eyes casted down at the gleaming linoleum tiles.

"Sir." She broke silence two times today.

"Yes?" Edward had no reason to be irritated with her either. After all he could save it for Mustang.

"Are you displeased with the colonels request?"

"Either way. This or that. Who cares? The old Bastard is probably just so bored and lonely he's got nothin' better to do."

She smirked, though Edward couldn't see it. "With all due respect, Sir. You shouldn't speak of you elders that way."

"Hm." It _had_ caught him off guard. But he supposed she was right. She _was_ more intelligent than most anyways. Edward had always admired her for that. He had respect for her, which was a very rare characteristic for him to give one of his fellow dogs of the military.

But then again, Mustang was still an ass.

They arrived at his office door. Hawkeye opened the door for him. She didn't come in with him, so Edward figured this was a confidential matter.

Edward came in and casually slumped himself on the soft sofa. Mustang hadn't even look up from his paperwork on the desk.

"Fullmetal." Mustangs attempt at a greeting.

"Mustang." Edwards attempt at a greeting.

Both impolite, yet mutually acknowledged.

"Your report last week was outstandingly specific." Still, he stared at his work.

"Was it?"

"And your research in the report is being published by Cheska as we speak."

"Published? I never approved of such a thing." Edward really didn't care that it was going to be published and made available in centrals library, he just wanted to push mustangs buttons.

"I'm fully aware that we didn't get your approval. That's why you're here."

"Pardon?" Edward raised his brow and got up from the sofa, striding over to mustangs desk.

"I just need you to sign this paperwork. Full signature at the top and bottom." He pointed to a blank line at the top of the paper then the bottom.

"That's all?" Edward inquired.

"That's all." He held a fancy and heavy looking pen out for Edward to take.

Edward took it into his left hand.

He placed the pen to the paper and began to scrawl an attempt at his signature.

"Fullmetal." Mustang stopped him. "That's hardly legible. Use your correct hand." He rolled his eyes.

Edward glared at him with a defeated look in his eyes.

He raised his right hand to the desk to switch the pen. He could hardly hold the pen let alone sign anything. The bandage made the writing utensil slip over and over again. More random scrawls of mistakes fell onto the form.

Mustang Sighed heavily, obviously very irritated with Edward, and ever so impatient.

"What the hell did you do to your hand, fullmetal?"

"Just a little cut. Hard to write. Gimme a break old man."

"I don't have time for this."

"Well what makes you think I have time for this!?"

Mustang blinked, taken aback.

"You think I need to be here signing your stupid little papers?! Don't you think I have bigger things to worry about?! Cut the crap! You never needed my signature before! Now all of the sudden you do!? Just do what you want! It doesn't matter!"

A long moment of silence passed as Edward caught his breath, and Mustang regained his composure.

"Edward." He used his real name. "I realize that you have problems of your own. And I understand that due to your age, it's harder on you." Edward gritted his teeth, taking it as an insult.

"You have a constant conflict to address, your brother and you. I can only imagine your pain." Edward didn't believe him, his face never changed.

"But it _is_ your job as a soldier to keep such personal problems out of the office."

Edward looked defeated in every way possible. And he was completely stunned at Mustangs hideous attempt at compassion. He just wanted to punch him in the face for pretending like he knew what him and Alphonse were going through in the slightest way.

He gritted his teeth and clenched his fists, certain that if he didn't leave, Mustang would be unconscious and on the floor.

"Your hand can be better tended to in the infirmary."

Silence. Stillness.

"You're dismissed."

Edward took that as his chance to flee the room as fast as he could.


End file.
